


Off Limits

by bricoleur10



Category: Leverage
Genre: Con!Aftermath, Gen, Team!fic, Vague Discussions of Violence, protective!Eliot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 16:24:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5170502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bricoleur10/pseuds/bricoleur10
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Parker gets hurt during a con, Eliot knows that there's only one thing he can do. The others try to stop him. </p><p>Or:</p><p>The one in which they learn that there's no Hitter honor code.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Off Limits

**Author's Note:**

> Just another little diddy that's been hanging out on my computer for years. I always had a thing for Eliot being super duper protective of everyone on the team, especially Parker.

**Off Limits**

\---

He pulls the door closed behind him, but doesn’t let it click all the way shut. A sliver of light remains, illuminating her face, the bruises. 

“I want a name,” he says when he’s back in the living room. They all glance up. 

Hardison clears his throat. “I told you, man, it was just bad timing. No reason to get all Batman Defends on our asses, a’right?” 

“A name.” He repeats, and looks at Nate. “He wasn’t part of the plan.” 

“No,” the mastermind shakes his head. “There wasn’t supposed to be security.” 

“She had her taser.” Eliot takes a deep breath. They don’t know the exact details of what had happened in that room; Parker had given them only a rough sketch, a blurry outline. 

“And she used it,” Hardison says. 

“Eliot...” Sophie starts, looking at him with eyes that are too kind. “She can take care of herself. We all can.” 

“No,” he chokes out. They can’t. They need him. They don’t know it, but they don’t understand his world. 

“Yes, we can,” Sophie declares. “Not always. But here? This scenario? This job? There was no reason to think we needed...” 

“Me?” Eliot finishes for her, and laughs. “You never know when you’re gonna need me, that’s the point.” 

“She’s _fine_.” Hardison says desperately. “She’s fine. You, on the other hand, I’m startin’ to worry about.” 

“She’s hurt.” He growls. 

“It’s a bruise or two,” Nate says, “You come home with worse every day.” 

“Because it’s my _job_!” He snaps then, suddenly furious. “It aint hers!” He gestures to the bedroom wildly, panting. In a moment of inspiration he flings out an arm and sends a nearby vase to the floor, shattering it. 

They all jump back, react to his violence. In the half a second it takes them to process what he’d just done – and decide whether or not they have just cause to be afraid of him right now – he lunges forward and grabs the file off the table, where Nate and Hardison had been hovering over it, keeping it from him. He glances through it in a heartbeat, just long enough to see that it has what he wants, and when, a second later, Nate figures out what he’d just done and tries to take it back, Eliot recoils. 

They’re staring at him now; Nate, Sophie, and Hardison, the latter two putting together his actions just a beat slower than it’d taken their mastermind. 

“Eliot,” Sophie’s eyes are pleading with him. “She’s not that injured. A few bruises, that’s it. Please, put this into perspective.” 

“I am,” he glowers at her. And then at Nate. “This wasn’t about the job. This was about some thug...some wannabe bad-ass thug with a _gun_ , hurting her because he _could_.”

“She fought him off,” Hardison says quietly. “She got away.” 

“And next time she might not,” he speaks evenly, not letting go of the hacker’s gaze. “What’s gonna happen then?” 

“You’ll be there.” Nate says. “We’ll make sure of it, Eliot. Every time. Just...please.” 

He shakes his head. “This isn’t about the cons, Nate,” he tries to lay it out flat, so they can all see. “This is about the game.” 

“What game?” Hardison demands. 

“They have to know that you guys are off limits.” Eliot tells them. 

“Who?” The hacker pushes. 

“Everyone,” Nate sighs, finally giving in to what Eliot knows has been inevitable since Parker had come home with this particular story of a fight. “It’s a reputation thing. Right, Eliot?” 

“Yeah,” he shrugs one shoulder, willing to let them call it that if it will help them understand. “You’re my team now. No one gets to hurt you just _because_.” 

“Is this some kind of hitter honor code thing?” Sophie demands. 

“We don’t have codes, Sophie,” Eliot flashes her a tired smile. “Or honor.” 

“Then this is about...” Hardison trials off, waiting. 

“Fear.” Eliot fills in the blank for him, wishing all the while that they’d just given him the name and let him go. It would have been easier. 

“Of you?” Sophie breathes, looking more afraid than Eliot would have liked, but also a little bit relieved, like this whole thing is making her feel safe, protected. 

He meets her gaze. “Yes.” 

None of them know how to respond to that. Even Nate, always three steps ahead of any given moment, is staring at the hitter like he’s not sure what to say or do next. Eventually he clears his throat, drawing the attention of the others. “I guess we can’t really stop you.” 

Eliot appreciates his demeanor – calm in the face of something he knows he has no hope of controlling. “No.” The hitter confirms. 

“You’ll be careful?” 

“Careful enough,” he agrees. “I’ll come home.” 

Nate nods his understanding and reaches for the Jameson bottle. 

Sophie huffs, “Eliot, you don’t have to-”

“Yes, he does,” Nate interrupts her. 

Hardison’s shaking his head now, looking torn between pissed off and _really_ pissed off. “I aint watchin’ this happen, man.” He closes up his laptop and, with a final glare at Nate, retreats upstairs. Had Parker not been here, he probably would have left. 

Eliot sighs, but feels better for his absence. He’ll talk it out with the kid later, when the sting of _could have_ abates some. 

“I’m tempted to follow his lead,” Sophie mutters. 

“Go ahead,” Eliot says to her, and then turns to Nate, “I’ll be back tomorrow. Afternoon, at the latest.” 

The mastermind nods, sipping his drink. “We all do what we think we have to,” he speaks in a soft tone, and Eliot has to wonder who it’s for, him or Sophie. “Different lives lead to different perceptions. I’m starting to understand that, now.” 

“Don’t think about it too hard,” Eliot warns him, ironic lilt in his voice that even he can hear. “It’ll make less sense at the end of the day than it did at the beginning, if ya think about it too hard.” 

Nate nods, and then silently hands Eliot his whiskey. The hitter smiles tightly and downs the rest of what had been in the glass. It makes him feel warm for a moment, when it’s finished burning. 

“Needed that,” Eliot admits with a small smile. 

He shares a look with Nate, and then turns to Sophie and nods once. “I’ll be back.” He promises. 

Sophie looks dismayed and irritated, Nate’s resigned and pouring himself another drink; without another lost moment Eliot turns on his heels and leaves the apartment. 

Outside the wind is cold and biting but he doesn’t feel it for a while, protected by the memory of the warmth. 

End.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you thought.


End file.
